


The Christmas Admirer

by TheMourningMadam



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:07:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24365524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMourningMadam/pseuds/TheMourningMadam
Summary: Hermione receives a 'coupling journal' as part of a Hogwarts gift exchange. She finds herself quite taken with the person writing her notes through these journals. What will she do when she discovers the flirty man from the journals' pages is the same shy Slytherin she avoided?
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 5
Kudos: 78





	1. Chapter 1

Hogwarts' halls were thoroughly decked in the days leading up to Christmas, thanks to the efforts of Hogwarts' first group of "eighth years"—a mismatched group of students from three of the four Houses who had decided to return to either continue their education or repeat the seventh year they'd been forced to endure in the midst of War. It was imperative they sat for NEWT's to get the positions within the Ministry that they all sought, so Headmistress McGonagall had kindly offered to take in this ragamuffin team of eighteen year olds for one more year.

There weren't many of them, only seven—Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, Luna Lovegood, and (much to Hermione's chagrin) Draco Malfoy. The first three months that they'd been back had been awkward, these students from different Houses, backgrounds and affiliations during the War all now sharing one Common Room. They each had a small private bedroom, but when a former Slytherin came across a former Gryffindor, their personalities were bound to clash. There was four Slytherins, outnumbering the two Gryffindors and one Ravenclaw. Everyone, save Malfoy, got along fairly well. He generally kept to himself, speaking only when spoken to and never offering input into any conversation.

It seemed to Hermione that Malfoy was embarrassed, ashamed or even irritated that he was back in Hogwarts for another school year. The Ministry had made it part of his probation and he needed to sit for the NEWTs if he was going to attend university and apprentice in any of Britain's apothecaries. Harry had testified on his behalf, regaling the Wizengamot with the tale of how Draco refused to identify him in Malfoy Manor. That testimony had saved Draco Malfoy's arse, and he knew it. He'd shown gratitude toward Potter by remaining civil with his Muggleborn best friend. Civil…indifferent…same thing.

Hermione was just grateful that Malfoy had stopped insulting her on a daily basis. She tried her best to avoid him as well, the memory of the Easter holiday spent writhing in pain on his home's floor as his deranged aunt carved into her arm putting a damper on any really conversation Hermione would ever have with the blonde wizard.

Today, however, was December 1st, and McGonagall had tasked the eighth years with decorating the Great Hall and the main corridors leading to classrooms. Hermione, ever the leader, was doling out areas that needed decorating to each of her fellow classmates. Theo and Pansy were to take the garland and hang it around the perimeter of the Great Hall. Neville and Luna were tasked with stringing lights onto the twelve trees Hagrid had dragged in. Blaise was assembling centerpieces for all of the tables. Hermione and Draco were paired together to decorate the trees after they were strung with lights.

Draco had his wand out, wrapping elegant red and green ribbons around the trees, his face a mask of indifference. Hermione was placing ornaments onto the branches the Muggle way. She would have to use magic to reach the top, but for now placing the baubles on by hand reminded her of her childhood and it was comforting. She hadn't decided yet to restore her parents' memories, but she could relive the memories in her few peaceful moments at Hogwarts. Or so she thought. "Really, Granger? Are you a witch or not? You're taking _forever_."

Malfoy's voice was impatient and agitated. Hermione rolled her eyes. "Must you be such an arrogant wizard _all_ the time? Try placing a few by hand and you'll feel the satisfaction of hard work."

She handed him a tray of baubles and took a large silver and green one. "Like this," she began, putting the hook onto a branch and wrapping the hook around the branch so it wouldn't fall.

Draco sighed and gave in to her requests. His nimble fingers retrieved a gold and red ornament and placed it in the tree just as she had instructed. She smiled at him and he scowled in return. She rolled her eyes one more. He was so insufferable, she wondered why he even bothered to come into the Great Hall to help. She could hear the voices and laughs of the other eighth years as they decorated, the Yuletide spirit overtaking them all. Hermione wished she hadn't opted for Draco as her partner.

She figured she would at least try. "Are you spending Christmas at…the Manor?" she asked him, uneasy mentioning his home.

"It is my home," was his curt reply.

He humored Hermione, though, and continued placing the ornaments on all of the trees by hand. "We typically spent Christmas in a cottage along the seaside…but now I'll go back to the Burrow."

Draco looked at her, one eyebrow raised, his face quizzical. "Did your parents…"

She shook her head. "No. They're alive. But it's complicated."

Hermione could have sworn she saw his face soften for just a moment before it hardened into his usual contemptuous façade. "That's unfortunate. But, I'm sure Weasel will be thrilled to see you." There was an edge to his tone as he said it.

"Don't call him that, Malfoy. His family has been through a lot since May…" her voice trailed off as she fought back a sob over Fred's death.

"Who's hasn't?" he asked bitterly, giving her a severe look, an ornament in his hand in mid-air.

Hermione bit her tongue. Of course, Lucius had been imprisoned in Azkaban for ten years for his role in the War. Narcissa was on house arrest. She remembered reading it all in the Daily Prophet. "I'm sorry," she muttered. "I didn't realize."

He shrugged in a nonchalant manner. Hermione placed her hand on his arm and looked up at him. "I really am sorry, Malfoy. We are grateful for what you did for us at Easter, and we are sorry that we couldn't lessen the burden for all of your family."

Malfoy only nodded once. His face was a steely mask and she knew better than to continue speaking to him. She wished she could figure out what was going on beneath his hardened exterior. He couldn't possibly be so harsh, could he? After a period of time, he raised his wand and the rest of the ornaments wrapped the upper parts of the trees they could not reach. They stood back and admired their work, and despite himself, he did feel more accomplished having done the majority by hand.

Headmistress McGonagall came in at that point carrying what looked like a smaller condensed version of the Goblet of Fire. The eighth years gathered around where she was setting the chalice up on the platform where the professors sat. "What is that, professor?" Theo asked curiously.

"In an effort to unify the Houses and get into the holiday spirit, we are going to have a gift exchange," she replied, wiping a spot of sweat from her brow. "If anyone would like to participate, they can place their slip into the chalice and in one week's time, we will draw the names."

"Is it going to be secretive?" it was Draco who asked this, much to everyone else's surprise.

The Headmistress smiled. "If the sender so wishes. The idea is to create _unity_ however, so it would be the sender's responsibility to get to know their match well enough to buy or make a gift."

Draco nodded, his face stoic and untelling. The others seemed intrigued. "Will it be limited to our years?" Neville asked.

"Well…there's only seven of you, so you'll be lumped in with the seventh years," Minerva replied. "I'm going to announce this during the feast this evening. You all can go back to your dorms now. Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy, if you would, I'd like to have a word."

The others left, whispering amongst themselves like a bunch of third years, excited at the prospect of receiving a gift from someone they'd pay no mind to any other day. McGonagall turned to the two who remained and sighed. "The other professors and I also thought it would be wise to have a Yule Ball this year…try to raise spirits some after such a difficult year."

This information made Draco sit back against the Ravenclaw table and cross his arms over his chest. Hermione raised an eyebrow. McGonagall continued. "As Head Boy and Girl, I had a favor to ask of you both."

Draco narrowed his eyes and Hermione put a hand to her hip, already aware of what was going to be asked of them. "It would be a nice presentation if the Head Boy from Slytherin House and the Head Girl from Gryffindor House could be seen conversing and dancing with one another."

Hermione looked at Malfoy and saw that his jaw was clenched and his arms remained crossed over his chest. "If that's what you think is best, Headmistress," he replied, his tone unreadable.

Hermione looked at him incredulously. Why was he sucking up and agreeing to accompany her to a _ball_? Their interaction whilst decorating trees was the first time they'd had any type of conversation since they'd been back at school. They weren't exactly on friendly terms—even their night patrols were served in silence.

McGonagall smiled at him and searched Hermione's face for an answer. She looked between the blond wizard and the elderly woman and simply nodded her consent. The elder witch smiled widely. "I appreciate the efforts the both of you have put forth this year to unify our school after such a…rocky end to last year. It's imperative to come together in times of difficulty and times of rebirth."

Hermione nodded and Draco sat up from the table. "Well, if we are quite done here, I've got an essay to compose for tomorrow's charms class?"

The Headmistress waved her hand as an informal dismissal and whispered to Hermione as the young woman turned to leave. "He'll come around, Miss Granger. He's fought different battles than the rest of us, but battles just the same."

Those words rang in Hermione's ears as she entered the Common Room to study before the evening feast.

o-o-o

The entire school was aflutter with the upcoming ball and gift exchange. The instructions were to bring the gift into the Great Hall the morning of the Yule ball, and then take their intended gifts back to their rooms at the end of the ball. Hermione had pulled a seventh year Ravenclaw's name and she had many pleasant conversations with him in the three weeks leading up to the Ball. He had a penchant for potions, so Hermione had bought him a new, engraved cauldron filled with his favorite chocolate frogs for the gift exchange.

Patrols with Malfoy had remained silent every night, so it startled Hermione when his cool drawl broke through the still night air. "What color are you wearing to the ball, Granger?" he asked, pushing his hands into his trouser pockets.

The question caught her off guard and she was totally unprepared for it. She knew, of course, what she'd be wearing already—she'd bought it the first weekend after the Yule ball was announced. "What business is that of yours?" she asked, deciding to serve him back his usual coldness.

He rolled his eyes. "Come off it, Granger. I want to make sure we match properly if we're going to be seen together."

Hermione lifted her chin defiantly. "It's not like we _want_ to be seen together."

"What color is the damn dress?" he asked, irritated with her elusive attitude.

She clenched her jaw and finally answered him. "It's emerald green."

He snorted in a decidedly un-Malfoy manner. "You'd sully your image in Slytherin house colors?" he asked.

"I'll be _celebrating_ in festive holiday colors, Malfoy," she said, climbing through the portrait hall to go into their respective rooms.

"Calm yourself, witch. I'm only teasing you," he said before he went into his room.

Conversation two was just as brief as their first. It made Hermione frustrated enough to let out a groan as she went to bed. He had to be so contrary all of the time—it was exhausting.

o-o-o

Hermione slid the butterfly comb into her thick hair, pinning a pile of curls to the side of her head so that they cascaded over one shoulder. She was looking forward to the ball, even if she would be tied to Malfoy all night. She was determined not to let him drag her down. This was her final year at Hogwarts and she intended to relish every moment of her first normal school year.

The dress she had selected was made of silk and lace. It was long, flaring out at her knees into a mermaid shape. The top had a sweetheart neckline and the straps hugged her shoulders, allowing the back of the dress to open up into a deep dip. It wasn't the most modest dress, but she had felt beautiful in it as she twirled in the fitting room of Madame Malkins. She wore silver strappy sandals and as she looked into the mirror, she wished she had thought about accessories. Her neck was dreadfully bare as she pulled simple diamond studs into her ears.

She gave herself a once over as she dabbed at the corner of her mouth, straightening the light lipstick line there. She was as good as she was going to get, she decided. She sighed and descended the stairs from her room into the Common Room, where she was to meet Malfoy.

When she stepped through the door, his back was to her. The soft click of her heels drew his attention and he turned around to face her. He was wearing all black, save for the green and silver tie complete with an emerald and pewter tiepin. His hair was brushed and styled to the side in the handsome adult way he'd kept his hair. Hermione surveyed his face closely, waiting for the derisive comments to come. But he swallowed hard, his eyes doing a subtle once over that left knots in Hermione's stomach. He had a small box I his hand and when she approached he opened it, revealing a wintry corsage of holly and berries that smelled of cinnamon. He pulled it out and she held her arm out to him, confused as to why he'd taken the time to buy her anything.

He slid the corsage onto her arm and she felt it magically form to the curve of her wrist. He looked at her neck thoughtfully, and pulled a slim box from his pockets. "I thought this would look nice…if you didn't have anything to match the dress," he explained and cracked open the box.

Inside was a simple, elegant white gold necklace with a small teardrop shaped emerald. Hermione gasped. "Malfoy, I can't take this. It's _expensive_."

He waved his hand dismissively. "We may not have chosen each other as dates for this ball, but you _are_ my date. And I would do the same for anyone else I brought."

Hermione ran a single finger over the soft velvet of the box, the delicate stone. Malfoy lifted it out of the box and motioned with a spin of his finger for her to turn around so he could put it on her. She lifted her curls and he slid the necklace around her neck. The feel of his fingers brushing her skin as he clasped it raised gooseflesh on her skin. He brought the backs of his knuckles down over the bare skin of her back, so subtle it could have been an accidental brush as he withdrew his hand.

She turned around to face him, carefully placing her curls back over her shoulder. Draco smiled then, a small handsome smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Who would have thought Gryffindor's princess could look so lovely in Slytherin's colors?"

The compliment took her aback and she swallowed hard and cleared her throat.  
"Right, well, we should head down."

o-o-o


	2. Chapter 2

When Draco and Hermione arrived at the entrance to the Great Hall, he offered her his elbow. She hesitated for a moment, but placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. She raised her chin in a fit of determination and Draco smirked. "Nervous, Granger?" he asked.

She frowned. "I'm just wondering what everyone will think when we walk in together."

It was Malfoy's turn to frown. "Why do you care?"

She looked up at him and smiled slightly. "I guess I don't. But we _will_ receive some stares."

"If you didn't want people to stare, you should have picked a different dress," he shrugged.

This was his second compliment in less than ten minutes, and Hermione didn't know what to make of it. He could sense her unease at his kind words and so placed a hand over hers in his elbow. "Come on, then. Let's get it over with."

They walked in and sure enough, many people stared and there were hushed whispers behind hands. But Hermione found she wasn't bothered by it. Her eyes swept the Hall, searching for her friends. She spotted Ginny's head of read hair and smiled at her longtime friend. Ginny gave her a look that clearly said, "Malfoy?" Hermione shrugged and Ginny raised an eyebrow and nodded, smiling widely as though to say Malfoy looked good. Hermione shook her head and turned her gaze to the punch table, where she spotted Theo Nott using his wand to add a brown liquid to the cider.

"Seems Nott is spiking the punch," she said to Malfoy, who rolled his eyes and grinned.

"That's Theo for you. He's always the life of the party and the biggest rule breaker you'll meet. Shall we head him off now?"

Hermione shook her head. "Nah…let him have some fun. I'm sure McGonagall will figure it out eventually. Shall we try some of his concoction?"

He raised an eyebrow at her lack of concern for the rule breaking, but escorted her to the punch table. He poured two glasses and handed her one. "Sweet Salazar, that is strong," he said, laughing lightly.

Theo winked at him. "Greengrass has a bottle of her father's finest whiskey for each of us. Needless to say, we're having an after party in the Common Room."

He turned his attention on Hermione and grinned once more. "You look lovely in green. It really suits you."

Hermione mumbled a thank you as Ginny and Blaise ambled over. It was her turn to raise an eyebrow questioningly. "He watches me play Quidditch. And he's handsome," Ginny whispered as Blaise shook his friends hands in a brotherly manner. "What about Malfoy?"

Hermione shrugged. "McGonagall asked us to go together," was her simple reply.

The men turned once more as Theo went to where his date, Astoria Greengrass, was waiting for him to return with cider. There was a fast song playing now and most people where gathered in a large cluster on the designated dance floor, not really dancing so much as they were jumping and laughing.

"Why don't we join them?" Ginny asked, pulling Blaise by the hand and not leaving much room for discussion.

Hermione followed and Draco groaned as he followed suit. He hated dancing to this type of music. It was ridiculous to just jump up and down—that was not dancing. Give him a good waltz or swing and he could keep up all night. Hermione stopped right next to Ginny who was encouraging her to jump up and down. Hermione complied, laughing jovially. She turned to Malfoy, who was smiling a wide, genuine smile as he watched her, but was barely moving his shoulders to the music. Hermione reached down and grabbed his hands and laughed. "Just jump. Everyone's doing it, no one will stare."

Malfoy wrinkled his nose, but began to bounce on his heels. Hermione was laughing and still had his hands. There was a time in the song where everyone yelled, "Yeah!" and raised their hands. The next time the opportunity came around, Hermione lifted Draco's hands in her own and they both yelled "Yeah!" in time with everyone else. He relaxed some and Hermione watched as he grinned widely, admiring the fact that he _was_ quite handsome. And as much as she tried to remind herself that this was _Draco Malfoy_ she was dancing with and that she shouldn't be having those thoughts, she found herself mesmerized by the soft blond locks that fell messily into his sparkling pewter eyes, the soft curve of his pink lips as he laughed. She decided she quite enjoyed the sound of his throaty laugh, not having heard it any time she could remember.

The song ended and a slow song came on. They stood in front of one another and he held out his hand. She placed her own within his grasp and stared straight at his chest as he placed his hand on her hip. He swayed them from side to side and she felt him rubbing a small circle with his thumb against the silk fabric. She found that she was not uncomfortable with his touch, though she was confounded by his kindness. They hadn't said a collective hundred words to each other all year, and yet he was laughing and acting as though they were old friends. She expected his face to fall into its usual hardened façade at any moment.

She snuck a glance up at him and he smiled shyly down at her, swaying them in a slow circle. She felt her cheeks pinken and she averted her eyes to the side to watch the actual couples dance. There wasn't a particular bloke she'd wished to attend the Ball with, and she couldn't imagine herself with any of the men around her. The Ravenclaw boy she'd gotten in the gift exchange did watch her with a wary gaze, a look of utter confusion on his face as he danced awkwardly with a Hufflepuff fifth year. Hermione turned her eyes away from him, too and decided to just stare straight at Malfoy's chest and shoulders.

His body was lean and she could see the soft curve of muscles in his chest, no doubt a lingering result of his Quidditch days. He wore all black and Hermione couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him in color. She did notice that his green and silver tie was not the school issued one, but one made of the finest silk. The tiepin was a silver M with a serpent winding around it. He stood a foot taller than her usually, but her heels brought her eye level with his throat. She noticed how creamy the paleness of his skin was and could smell the cologne he was wearing.

Hermione chalked her strange attraction up to the firewhiskey laced punch and the jovial holiday spirit. She couldn't possibly be attracted to someone so hateful and arrogant as Draco Malfoy.

The song ended and they broke apart. "Would you like a refill on your drink? It looks as though the Headmistress has caught on and replaced it with fresh, non-alcoholic cider," Malfoy observed.

They walked over to the punch table and then went to stand in one of the arches off to the side of the room. Astoria Greengrass found this to be just the time to walk up to Malfoy and give him a demure smile. "You look positively dashing, Draco."

Hermione noticed the way she said his name in a two-syllable singsong. She rolled her eyes at the pale skinned, raven-haired beauty and took another sip of her drink. Draco smiled wide at the youngest Greengrass sister. "You are beautiful, as always, Miss Greengrass."

Was he flirting back? Hermione felt a slight pang in her chest and tried to squelch it before it spread. It wasn't her business. Astoria grabbed Draco's hand and turned to Hermione. "Can I borrow him for just one song?"

Hermione waved a hand dismissively. "You can borrow him for the next ten."

Malfoy shot her a glare but then smiled down at Astoria. He led her by the hand to the dance floor, where a few couples were attempting to waltz. She watched as Malfoy and Greengrass began to dance elegantly with one another, as though they were made for one another. Of course they could dance, it was probably required of them to learn for all of their high-society parties. Hermione rolled her eyes and Theo came up to her, smiling. He followed her gaze to the couple as Draco elegantly whirled Astoria and she laughed, giving him a playful slap to the chest. "His parents expect him to marry her, you know?"

Hermione looked up at Theo and gave him a questioning look. "Marry? He's just turned eighteen. How can they expect him to marry so soon?"

"Purebloods don't have much choice. We're expected to marry within the same twenty-eight families. And there's no way he's going to marry that cow Parkinson. Plus, Greengrass is a classic beauty and will pair nicely with him at functions and societal parties," Theo shrugged as if an arranged marriage was the most normal thing in the world.

Hermione supposed to them, it was. She looked back at where they were dancing, feeling a burning in her chest again as the song ended and Malfoy placed a kiss on Astoria's cheek. "He doesn't truly fancy her. But he's got expectations to live up to," Theo managed before he stood tall and walked over to where Astoria and Draco were gearing up to dance to another song.

"I believe you're with my date, Malfoy. Hands off," Theo said playfully, wrapping an arm around Astoria and pulling her away.

Astoria laughed and Hermione noticed it was a musical laugh, not at all like her own snort and guffaws. Malfoy sauntered back to where she still stood by the buffet table. "Sorry…didn't want to be rude…" was all he said.

"We're only together because Headmistress McGonagall asked us to be," Hermione said coolly.

Malfoy's brow furrowed and he gave one nod. "I suppose."

At that particular moment, the two felt themselves being drawn, as if by magnets, to one another. "What the-"

They heard the mistletoe forming above their heads and Hermione groaned audibly. She heard Theo laughing from the dance floor and Malfoy shot him a deadly glare. "I'm going to _kill_ you, Nott!"

Theo laughed again. "Go on and give the witch a kiss, then."

Draco tried to pull away from her but fond his feet were rooted to the spot. Hermione seemed to be having the same problem. He looked down at her, a small frown on his face, a slight flush splayed across his alabaster features. "He just wants a show."

"Then why don't we give him one?" Hermione said after a moment.

Malfoy furrowed his brow for a brief moment before he let out a short laugh. "You're brazenness and determination never cease to amaze me."

"Well, he's not going to let us go until we kiss, so we might as well get it over with," she reasoned.

Despite himself, Malfoy's mouth turned up at the corners into a timid smile. Hermione noticed that it was a genuine smile, shy and uncertain, unlike the smile he gave to Astoria. He was not simply playing a role with her. He placed one hand on her hip and the other on her neck, under the mass of curls gathered there. She placed both of her hands on his chest and found that her heart was beating wildly in her chest. It was just some bloody mistletoe. This kiss meant nothing to either of them!

He brought his face down to reach hers, and she saw his eyes flutter closed. She had enough time to register that he had beautifully long eyelashes before she followed suit. He brought his lips to her in a gentle brush of skin on skin. His thumb ran over her jaw from where it rested against her neck. She pressed her lips more firmly into his and allowed her tongue to glide along his bottom lip. To her surprise, he opened his mouth to allow her access. For all too brief a moment, their tongues danced a tango and then it was over. He pulled away and dropped his hands to his sides, turning to glare at Theo who was whooping. Astoria was looking at him with a look of shock on her face, mildly irritated that the object of her affections and future was kissing someone else.

"That wasn't funny, Nott," Malfoy said with malice as he pushed past him to sit down at a table.

Hermione watched as Malfoy removed his jacket and draped it over the back of one chair, his familiar scowl back on his face. Neville came up then and tapped Hermione on the shoulder. "May I have this dance, Hermione?" he asked in his usual bashful Neville way.

Hermione obliged, not wanting to be near Malfoy as her flushed cheeks returned to normal. She moved with Neville, who had two left feet but was sweet enough. She glanced over at the table and saw Malfoy watching them with his arms crossed, a handsome pout on his perfectly shaped pink lips. _Perfect pink lips? I really am losing my mind._

Hermione danced with Neville, then with Ginny and Blaise to another quick song and then, finally with Theo. Theo was a pureblood and was every bit as graceful as the other Slytherins when he tried to be. He and Hermione did a delicate waltz, her stepping incorrectly a few times, and he paying her steps no mind. "He's a right moody git," he said as he turned Hermione.

Hermione looked up at Theo and laughed lightly. "That's an understatement."

"He's harmless, though. Don't let his hard exterior fool you."

Hermione snorted as Theo spun her around. "Yeah, he's a regular old pygmy puff of a man."

"He's rough around the edges, sure," the song was ending and Theo dipped Hermione into a deep dip that made her squeal, "but he really is a good man with a big heart."

Theo's words repeated themselves in her head as she let go of him to return to her date. "Alright! This one's our last, ladies and germs. So grab your lover tight and have a good night!" yelled the singer of the live band.

Hermione walked up to Malfoy. He scowled up at her. "Having fun?"

She wasn't going to allow his sullen mood to ruin her night. "Actually yes. Would you care to dance this final song?"

"What makes you think I want to dance with you, Granger?" Malfoy muttered, averting his eyes.

"Stop this rubbish!" Hermione refused to allow a second man to ruin a Yule Ball for her. "Stand up and let's dance. We've had a good time together and you will not ruin this for me."

Draco glared up at her but stood anyway. Who was she to be so demanding of him? He clenched his jaw and led her to the dance floor by her hand. She decided to place her hands on his shoulders and he placed both hands on her hips. He was still tense, but she felt him ease up as she brought her a hand around to touch the hair at the nape of his neck. She ran her fingers through the baby soft hairs there. "I always wondered if it was as soft as it looked," she murmured.

He looked at her as if that was the most absurd thing he'd ever heard, a smile tugging at his lips. "Do you think of my hair often, then?" he teased.

She blushed. "Once or twice when you've sat in front of me in a class."

He brought a hand up to tug at her curls. They sprang back into place. "Who could miss your mane?"

She giggled lightly and placed her face into his chest. He smelled of cologne, parchment and spearmint toothpaste and she found it comforting. He placed a hand on the bare skin at the small of her back and brought his face down the rest his cheek against her head. She could feel his breaths tickling over her shoulders and it caused gooseflesh to rise over her body. They swirled slowly and Hermione allowed herself to forget that he was Draco Malfoy and she was Hermione Granger and that they were only there as a favor to the headmistress to keep up appearances.

For a few brief, too brief if she was honest, moments she allowed herself the comfort of being embraced by a handsome man. She inhaled his scent, so indescribably _Malfoy_ , and ran her fingers through his silky hair at the nape of his neck. She could feel his thumb working small circles on the bare skin of her back, a gentlemanly distance from her rear. Unlike Theo, who tried to grab Astoria's rear, earning him a swift swat and a laugh.

The song ended and they knew it was time to end the evening. Everyone took turns stepping to the trees and retrieving their exchange gifts. _"Accio Hermione Granger's gift!"_

A large box came sailing towards her and Draco caught it. "I'll carry it for you," he replied, setting his own small package on top.

They walked in silence up to the Common Room. The corridors were drafty, causing Hermione to shiver. Draco noticed and said a quick spell to levitate their gifts alongside them. He shook his jacket back off his shoulders and draped it over Hermione's. His body warmth clung to the fabric and she gave him an appreciative smile as she pulled it close around her. She found herself wondering once more when the other shoe was going to drop. When would he become the hateful, stoic statue of a man once more. But he continued on, smiling and humming under his breath, the packages levitating next to them silently.

When they reached tapestry outside of the Common Room, he placed a hand on her shoulder before she could climb through the door. She looked up at him and he swallowed hard. His face was nervous and shy once more as he cleared his throat. "I just wanted to say…I had a nice time tonight, Granger."

She smiled at him. "I did, too. Thank you for being a good sport and agreeing to accompany me."

She reached up to unclasp the necklace and return to him. He stopped her. "No. I gave that to you as a gift. Keep it," he told her and her traced the white gold chain over her collar with one ghosting finger, causing butterflies in her stomach.

He moved to close the gap between him and he took her hands in his own. Hermione was positive he was going to kiss her again when the door to the Common Room opened and Theodore Nott's face popped out.

Draco dropped her hands and turned on his friend. "Nott, is there something we can help you with?"

"Oh, sorry! Am I interrupting something?" Theo asked suggestively.

Hermione flushed once more and grabbed her package. "No, we were just coming in, Theo."

She went through the doorway and with her back to Draco, she failed to see the murderous glare he shot at his fellow Slytherin. The eighth years were all gathered in the Common Room with their respective dates. They'd all removed their shoes, loosened ties and removed cummerbunds, let their hair out of their up-dos. Everyone was comfortable and sitting around the couches, making merry and enjoying the company of others. Hermione found the sight heartwarming as she thought about the end of the War and the many changes it had brought about.

She excused herself to go to her room and change her clothing. She placed the exchange package on the bed. It was wrapped intricately and perfectly in a silver and red paper, a large green and gold ribbon wrapped around it, tied in a perfect bow atop. She was always anxious as a child to open her gifts and found herself eager to open this one.

She pulled off her dress and corsage. She decided to keep the corsage as a memento to the strange evening she'd spent with Draco Malfoy, so she did a preservation charm on it and hung it from her mirror. She placed her earrings into her jewelry box and made to remove her necklace. She caught sight of the dainty chain and emerald in the mirror and decided she'd not remove it just yet. She pulled the large butterfly comb from her hair and shook her head, releasing her curls and allowing them to splash all around her shoulders.

She sighed as she pulled on a pair of maroon leggings and a large knit cream sweater that hung lazily over one shoulder. She pulled a comfy pair of boot socks up and over her leggings, trying to make herself as comfortable as possible.

Only when she was fully dressed did she sit down and pull the gift closer to herself. She pulled the delicate ribbons and opened the box. Inside, she found a few gifts. There was an apothecary jar filled with various sweets from Honeydukes. Beside that was a small wooden box that, when opened, had a beautiful snowy-owl feather quill inside. She pulled a small inkpot out, filled with what the package claimed to be a never-ending supply of deep plum purple ink (she would use this to edit her essays). Much to her delight, there was a book on the rights of magical creatures. And as she was getting ready to toss the box aside, she saw something else.

It was wrapped in a thin gold paper and Hermione grabbed it delicately. It was evident that the package's sender had intended this to be the main gift. She carefully removed the thin paper to reveal a book, bound in soft black leather. The edges were dipped in silver and Hermione saw that if she turned the book at a certain angle, an intricate pair of dragon's eyes were painted just a shade of darker silver along the books pages. She furrowed her brow and opened it. As she did, words appeared on the first page of what she recognized as a journal. "Happy Christmas, Hermione."

She did not recognize the small elegant script. She got an uneasy feeling as she held the book, remembering Ginny's episode during second year. That journal had been a Horcrux, laced with Dark Magic. What if this book was made similarly? Her heart started pounding. She looked all over the box for any kind of card or name tag that would indicate the sender's name. Nothing. She opened her new inkpot and used the new quill to pen a response. _Who are you?_

She waited just a moment before words appeared. _Where's the fun in telling you that so soon?_

Her heart was thumping as she frowned at the book. _This is Dark Magic. I'm sure headmistress McGonagall would like to see this._

She could practically feel the sender's eyes roll as she read his reply. _I bought this in Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. It's a coupling journal._

A coupling journal? What did that even mean? _I will see George Weasley over holidays. I shall confirm with him if you are telling the truth._

She was trying to call the sender's bluff. She thought she'd got the person when the elegant script appeared once more. _I would assume nothing different from you. I assure you, he will confirm that this is one of his products._

Hermione's heart still beat rapidly as she clamped the journal shut. She didn't want to use it until she had a chance to speak to George and have him confirm that it was harmless.

She placed it on her nightstand and went out into the Common Room. Who would buy her a coupling journal? Who wanted to get to know her? Why? She had too many questions swimming in her head. She made her way to the makeshift drink table and poured herself a firewhiskey. At that time, Malfoy came out of his room and walked to where she was. He made himself a drink as well and then crossed to where Astoria Greengrass was sitting at the end of a couch. She'd come in with Theo to continue the festivities, but it didn't seem he minded when Draco put an arm around her shoulders. Hermione drank the shot back rapidly and poured herself another, trying to convince herself the burning in her chest was from the strong cinnamon and not from jealousy.

She thought of Ron, then. She'd be seeing him at the Burrow. They had agreed to take a break while he was training to become an Auror, and she wondered how awkward it was going to be. She hadn't seen him since August. It seemed like Ginny sensed her friend's inner turmoil. She rose from her place next to Blaise and came up to where Hermione was drinking her second shot.

"Maybe don't do shots. Maybe do sips," Ginny said, grinning her brother's same grin.

She led her friend to the empty place at the end of the couch opposite Malfoy and Astoria. Hermione sat down and listened to Theo telling rather enthusiastic stories about his childhood with Blaise and Draco. Everyone was laughing happily and Hermione allowed herself to sneak a glance at Malfoy. He was smiling at Theo's words, his hand twirling one of Astoria's curls. But he was looking right at Hermione, his eyes taking in the fact that she was still wearing the necklace he'd given her. Her hand went over it reflexively and he smiled a slight upturn of the lips at her before returning his attention to Theo acting out the time they'd gotten the House elves at Malfoy Manor drunk and convinced them it was Christmas in July.

Hermione wasn't listening to anything going on around her. She was wondering about her strange interactions with Malfoy all evening, trying to tamp down the irritation she felt at the sight of Draco's beautiful hand playing with Astoria's curls. She thought about the journal that lay on her nightstand and wondered who would have given her such an item.

o-o-o


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione sat at the worn dining table at the Burrow, trying desperately to concentrate on the conversation she was having with Ron and Harry. She looked at Ron as he spoke animatedly and noticed his physique had broadened and he'd gained quite a bit of muscle. His hands had harsh callouses, more so than when he played Quidditch and his hair was cut neatly. She'd never seen him look so handsome and rugged, and yet, something else was attracting her attention.

She thought of the coupling journal she'd received. She had two Weasleys she needed to speak with to get answers and they were currently speaking to one another at the other end of the table.

"You even listening, 'Mione?" Ron asked, grinning his trademark lopsided grin.

"What? Oh, yeah, I'm glad you're having so much fun training…" she picked at her food and sighed. She'd waited months to see her friends and yet, her mind couldn't be farther from this dining table.

"We've missed you quite a bit, you know. It's still weird not seeing you every day," Ron remarked, refilling his serving of mashed potatoes.

She looked up into his bright blue eyes then and smiled. She'd missed them, too. More than they knew. While their lives had brought them to do something new and exciting, hers had brought her back to Hogwarts. Memories overwhelmed her often times, around every corner of that old castle. Harry was whispering to Ginny beside Ron and didn't seem to register anyone else at the table.

She relished the warmth in the home, Christmas Eve growing to a close as they sat around the fire. Ron and Harry were polishing their broomsticks, brand new gifts that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had to save for months to buy. Mrs. Weasley was fussing over Ginny and how she'd grown another inch and her skirt now rose a little too high to be modest. Bill and Fleur were speaking with Mr. Weasley about Muggle Christmas customs. Charlie and George were sitting together, Charlie speaking animatedly to the remaining twin, who tried to put on his best enthusiastic face. Hermione saw the hurt that still shone in his eyes at the loss of his twin and he was having a difficult first Christmas without him, and she felt a pang in her chest. He excused himself and Hermione followed him.

"How are you actually doing, George?" she asked him, slipping her arm through his.

He looked down at her and offered a weak half smile. "Like half of me is missing. I don't know if that will ever go away…"

"Fred would be proud of you though. That you kept the shop going," she said, genuinely trying to soothe his devastated soul.

He nodded and laughed. "Yeah, but I have to admit, it's not as fun to come up with new products alone. I'm trying to convince Ron to join me if the Auror thing doesn't work out."

They stopped outside of George's bedroom and Hermione bit her lip, unsure of whether or not to ask him about the journal. He turned to her and asked, "Is there something bothering you, 'Mione?"

She sighed. "Hold on," she put one finger up and went into her room across the hall, coming back with the journal.

"Do you sell this in the shop? A coupling journal?" she asked him.

George took the journal and turned it over in his hands, examining it. "It's from the shop. We designed them based off of Ginny's run in with Tom Riddle, thought lovers would enjoy them…or if you wanted to cheat during tests. It's been altered quite a bit," he replied.

Her brow furrowed. "What does that mean? Is it dangerous?"

He shook his head. "No, it's not altered with dark magic. It was altered by hand. Those eyes are hand painted in some kind of silver substance. Perhaps alchemized pewter? And it's warm to the touch."

Hermione instinctively reached out to touch the book. It _was_ warm, the warmth almost pulsating. George opened the cover and smirked. "It's a Protean Charm. It alerts you to when there's a new message written within."

He was visibly impressed as he turned the page to show her. It simply said _Have you verified the journal's origins yet?_

George closed the book and handed it to her. "You might want to show this to Charlie. I'd be willing to bet those aren't just any eyes painted on the side. If the person who gave this to you went through the trouble of hand painting them, I'd bet they're symbolic of some deeper meaning."

This confused Hermione more than anything else George had said. As if on cue, Charlie ambled up the stairs, heading to his old room. "Can I ask you something, Charlie?" Hermione asked.

He opened the door to his room and went to recline lazily on his bed and George sat at his old desk. Hermione noticed that, Charlie too, was handsome and rugged. Must be a Weasley trait. He had significant scarring across his arms and she saw his forearm flex as she handed him the journal. She was absolutely losing her mind. First she was attracted to Malfoy, now she was fawning over Charlie's arms.

"What can you tell me about those eyes? Are they specific to an actual dragon or generic?" she asked him, sitting next to him.

He turned the journal to an angle to study the subtle, delicate artwork. He raised one eyebrow. "Looks like the eyes of a Antipodean Opaleye."

"What can you tell me about that particular dragon? Why would someone choose that animal to mimic?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Pretty tame species of dragon. Scales range from iridescent gray to pearly white. Eyes don't have a definitive pupil, but instead look like a large opal."

"What about their personalities? You said they're tame?" she asked, more questions floating around in her head than answers.

"I don't have much experience with them, I'll admit. They're native to warmer climates like Australia. There's only two in captivity in Britain. But from what I can tell, they are pretty harmless, until provoked. They're fiercely loyal to their tamers—I'd hate to harm a tamer that one of them had attached itself to. Wouldn't be much left of me, I'd expect."

"Why would someone give me this, Charlie? I don't understand…" Hermione was more perplexed now than she had been when she unwrapped the journal.

He shrugged. "I have no idea. Seems like they're trying to convey a message of some kind."

"Do you think it's dangerous?" she asked as she took the journal back from him.

He shook his head. "I doubt it. Doesn't feel like Dark Magic. It's seems like someone bought it from George and then altered it to send a message. But they chose a docile breed of dragon. If it were meant to intimidate, I'd suspect they'd have chosen a Norwegian Ridgeback or some other ferocious beast. They chose the kitty cat of dragons."

Hermione bit her lip. She looked at George. "Do you remember who you sold these to? Anyone from Hogwarts?"

George shrugged and gave a small laugh. "These are our best selling items right now. I've sold them to probably fifty Hogwarts students this year."

She sighed, frustrated. "Well do you think I should communicate with the sender?"

The two brothers shrugged noncommittally. "It probably wouldn't hurt. If you get too creeped out you could stop," Charlie replied.

"It's probably someone who wants you to feed them answers during Charms exams or something," George laughed.

That prospect made Hermione's shoulders relax slightly. They were probably right. Ron walked into Charlie's room at this point, his new R sweater clinging to his new physique. Clearly Mrs. Weasley had not anticipated Ron's physical exertion in Auror training. "What's going on here," he asked, shoving a cookie into his mouth.

"Someone sent me a journal for the Hogwarts gift exchange and I was asking Charlie about the eyes on the side," she answered, carefully avoiding the fact that the journal had a twin somewhere and hoping George and Charlie would catch onto that fact as well.

"Since when does Hogwarts do a gift exchange?" Ron asked, eyeing the journal.

"Headmistress McGonagall thought it would be a good idea. To unify the Houses in the aftermath of the War. That and a second appearance of a Yule Ball…"

Ron narrowed his eyes now. "A Yule Ball? And who did you go with?" he sounded jealous already.

Hermione knew that Ginny would likely spill the beans to Harry sooner or later so there was no point in lying to Ron. "Malfoy."

Ron nearly choked on his cookie, Charlie laughed and George gave her a severe look. "You mean _Draco_ Malfoy?" Ron asked incredulously.

"Malfoy isn't a very common surname, so obviously," Hermione replied coolly.

"Why in the bloody hell would you go with _Malfoy?_ What is going on at Hogwarts? Are you friends with him now? The bloody ex-Death Eater?" Ron was firing questions at her, rapid fire.

She put her chin into the air as the other two Weasley men stared at the unfurling argument in equal parts amusement and dread at the fight that was to come. "First of all, _Ronald_ , nothing is going on at Hogwarts that concerns _you_ , considering you didn't bother returning to complete your education-"

"I got offered a job without having to do all the essays and Astrological charts and potions homework. So shit on me for choosing to go with the offer of a lifetime-"

Hermione continued as though she didn't hear him. "And Malfoy and I are not friends. But he is Head Boy and I am Head Girl and McGonagall asked us to go with one another. We are from opposing Houses and she thought it would set a good example."

"Still doesn't change the fact that he was a Death Eater. He was everything we fought against, Hermione," Ron was yelling at the top of his lungs and Hermione briefly worried that his elevated tone would attract he rest of the Weasleys and Harry.

"Well Voldemort is dead now. And Draco is at Hogwarts, keeping to himself and trying to finish his education. If McGonagall can see past his former indiscretions and allow him to come back, who am I to judge?"

"But you allowed him to accompany you to a Ball? Did he just sit in the corner and ignore you all night? You, the one thing he hates most in this world? A Muggle-born?" Ron sounded too hopeful at the prospect of Hermione being ignored all night.

"Actually, _Ronald_ , he was a perfectly lovely date. At least, _he_ didn't ruin a Yule Ball for me!" and with that Hermione turned on her heel and stormed from Charlie's room, leaving Ron's head to turn a violent shade of puce at the reminder of Viktor Krum dancing with Hermione. The other two Weasleys looked after her in disbelief, George clapping a hand on Ron's back. "She'll come around, mate. Give her time," Charlie said.

Hermione went into the room she'd be sharing with Ginny and climbed into the bed. She was still wearing her leggings and the H sweater Mrs. Weasley had knitted for her, but didn't care much for changing in the cool night air. She was still breathing hard from her altercation with Ron, her hair starting to get frazzled around her face in anger. " _How dare he? He's trying to ruin the memory of yet another Ball for me! Just like Ronald to get jealous and blow things way out of proportion!"_

She was angry, but she found herself glancing at the journal she'd laid on her nightstand. She knew she was in too much of a mood to read any actual books this evening and she wasn't very tired. Both George and Charlie had seemed to think the journal was harmless. Charlie had dealings with Dark wizards over the years as a dragon tamer, and if he said he didn't feel any Dark Magic residing in the book, she'd take his word for it.

She opened it to the first page once more. The message from earlier was still present. _Have you verified the journal's origins yet?_

She pulled out the purple ink and owl quill she'd received as a gift and penned an answer back. _Yes._

She waited a moment and thought perhaps it was too late at night and the sender wouldn't respond when the sender's elegant script appeared. _I take your response to mean that you don't think I've got nefarious intentions?_

Hermione raised an eyebrow at the choice of words. She didn't socialize with anyone who spoke using words like _nefarious_. She laughed to herself. _I haven't made up my mind yet, honestly. Who are you?_

_I'm not telling._ The response was short and sweet. And horribly frustrating to Hermione. _Why not?_ She asked the blank pages.

There was a long while where she received no response and she decided to close the book. As she was getting ready to place it on her nightstand, she felt it heat up. She opened the book and read the message thrice. _I want you to get to know the real me first._

She furrowed her brow. What did that mean? Who would want her to get to know them by sending messages back and forth in a book and not in real life? Didn't people get to know one another by actually going out and spending time together? She supposed that she was spending time with this individual, however far apart they were. Like pen pals…except with immediate response…

_How am I supposed to do that if we can't talk face to face?_

She waited only a few moments before receiving a response. _Ask me questions. Sooner or later, you'll figure out who I am._

_That's assuming I can piece together this riddle,_ she responded.

_You're a clever witch, I'm surprised you haven't already._ Was the sender sincere, or was the person mocking her? She couldn't tell from just a few words scribbled—no not scribbled, _elegantly penned_ —into a book. She took it to be genuine, otherwise the individual wouldn't have sent her the gift to begin with.

_Are you male or female?_ She asked, feeling quite silly referring to the person as 'the sender.'

_Last time I checked, male. But that was hours ago…_

Hermione laughed. He was quite cheeky. _Okay. What year are you in?_

_I'm graduating in June._

_Clever_ , Hermione thought. That left room for one of the eighth year boys amongst the seventh years. Though she couldn't see any of the Slytherins wanting to reach out to get to know her and Neville wasn't quite clever enough for the responses.

_What House are you in_?

_Not a chance, Hermione. That'd be too easy._

She groaned at his response. But he was right, that would have narrowed down her options considerably. _Okay, okay. What's your favorite class?_

_Potions. But I am quite good at Defense Against the Dark Arts and Ancient Runes as well._ He was certainly cocky, Hermione would give him that.

_What do you intend to do once you've graduated?_ She asked, genuinely curious. Most of the men she came in contact with these days wanted to follow the Chosen One and become an Auror.

She was relieved when he responded with something unexpected. _I rather enjoy alchemy. I'd like to further my studies at a university and then perhaps, an apprenticeship._

From this response, Hermione gathered that the individual was intelligent and had ambition. He wasn't afraid of putting in some elbow grease to accomplish goals if his desire for an apprenticeship was any indication. Aristocratic pureblooded men didn't take on menial apprenticeships, so that eliminated all of the Slytherin eighth years and some of the seventh years. She felt a tug at her heart as she eliminated one particular eighth year…

_So it is liquidized pewter brushed over the edges. Why dragon's eyes?_ She wrote in her loopy cursive.

She looked up from the journal at the sound of Ginny coming into the room. She didn't feel much like explaining the journal to yet another person tonight, so she was relieved when Ginny ignored her activities and went another route in conversation. "I guess Ron found out who your date was to the Ball."

Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes, staring at the blank space beneath her question. "Well, he certainly was _unreasonable_."

"He still hopes that you'll come falling back into his arms once he's finished training," Ginny said, crawling into her bed and leaning up on her elbow to face Hermione.

"Well, he certainly has a funny way of showing it," Hermione replied, her heart fluttering at the message that appeared on her page.

_I am fascinated by dragon lore. They are incredible beasts._

Hermione shook her head. Her few brushes with dragons had not been pleasant. _They scare me personally,_ she replied.

_I guess they would if you're flying them out of underbelly of Gringott's!_ he wrote.

Hermione smiled. _Do you know anything about this particular dragon?_ He asked.

She thought about divulging what Charlie had shared with her, but she wanted this man's perspective, hoping to gain insight into his mind. She penned a quick _Not really._

"He's really immature is what he is," Ginny complained. "But he means well, I guess. What about Malfoy, though?" she asked suggestively.

"What about him?" Hermione asked coolly, not really wanting to go back down this path again.

"Well…he's rather dashing. And he seems to have lost his arrogant bigoted ways since the War ended and his dad got incarcerated."

Hermione shrugged as though she hadn't thought about it…as though his grey stormy eyes hadn't pierced through her brain at every opportune moment since the Ball.

_Imagine that. Something Hermione Granger doesn't know…_ The words appeared and Hermione rolled her eyes. _Well, those eyes belong to an Antipodean Opaleye. This particular dragon is relatively docile but fiercely loyal and protective of those he loves. He's got a hard exterior, but is really the puppy dog of the dragon world._

She raised an eyebrow at his description. _Are you implying that this representative of you?_

_Me? No. I'm a total prick._ He really was quite sarcastic and cheeky, Hermione found him interesting, even in just the few brief exchanges.

_How do you know so much about dragons?_ She asked, curious.

_My parents took me to dragon reservations as a child. I learned how to tame a few. Not the Norwegian Ridgeback, of course. But I found myself quite taken with the Opaleye._

Hermione imagined a dark-haired young wizard controlling a dragon the way an equestrian would handle his horse. She smiled to herself, thankful that Ginny had taken the hint and rolled over to go to sleep. Hermione extinguished the light in the room and cast an illumination charm over the journal so that only the pages would shine in the night.

_So you're a dragon tamer, an undercover alchemist and a puppy dog in a pit bull exterior. Anything else you'd like to add?_ She asked, almost flirting with the unknown man.

_My favorite Quidditch team is the Falmouth Falcons. My favorite color is black. My favorite food is…well, anything sweet. I quite enjoy Irish Muggle punk rock music, though I can equally appreciate Beethoven or Bach. When I was a child, I had a stuffed dragon named Bibs that I carried everywhere with me until I was seven. I spend my free time reading both Muggle and Wizarding books and riding around on a broomstick—and no, I am not on the House Quidditch team. I get claustrophobic easily. I'm an only child. My favorite vacation spot is Tuscany. Anything else you'd like to know?_

Hermione looked over each piece carefully. He enjoyed Quidditch, but wasn't on a House team—that described ninety-five percent of the males in the school. He likes the color black, but who doesn't? He's got a sweet tooth—she may be able to use that in searching the tables for a male stuffing his face with treacle tarts. He enjoyed Muggle music and literature—so probably a Muggle-born. She thought of Seamus Finnegan as she spotted the word Irish—but he hadn't come back to school. He had a stuffed dragon—made sense if he was fascinated by dragon lore. He's an only child—again descriptive of half the boys in school. And he enjoyed Tuscany—so was he tanned?

Her thoughts were swimming, yet she realized he'd given her very little to go off of as far as his identity was concerned. There was so much more she wanted to know—his identity being first and foremost. _What do you look like?_

_Nice try. I'm not giving you any identifying clues, Sherlock,_ he wrote back.

She frowned as she watched another sentence appear. _Your turn._

She thought about what to write to him. He seemed to know more about her already.

_I'm an only child as well. My parents are dentists, so I was never allowed to have sweets growing up. Hogwarts was the first time I ate real sugar in my life. I prefer savory foods, like mashed potatoes. I'm not the least bit interested in Quidditch, but I support my friends out of loyalty. It's no shock that I also enjoy reading—I've always got a book on my person, at all times. For emergencies. I'm afraid of the dark—but not of the darkness itself. My favorite color is purple, but I also enjoy emerald green on occasion._ She touched the necklace Malfoy had given her, grimacing at the fact that she was still allowing her mind to float to him. _My favorite vacation spot is the Forest of Dean, where I went camping as a child. And I talk to myself more often than I care to admit. So what else do you want to know?_

She laughed aloud at his answer: _What's a dentist?_

So he must not be Muggle-born if didn't know what a dentist was. _They tend to people's teeth._

_How barbaric,_ was his simple response. She frowned at his response. Awfully arrogant and sure of magic. He was definitely a pureblood, then. But one who was okay with Muggle-borns. So definitely not a Slytherin. He was smart and academically inclined. Hermione suspected that Mystery Man belonged in Ravenclaw. She made it a point to go over every seventh year Ravenclaw she could think of, but decided she needed to see them to get a better idea. _Oh, Merlin. What if it was Teddy…_ She thought of the boy she'd been assigned to give a gift to. What if he'd gotten her name in return?

_Teddy?_ She wrote hopefully.

_Who in the bloody hell is Teddy? That sodding Ravenclaw boy always pining after you?_

So definitely not Teddy. Hermione detected a hint of jealousy at the words on the page. But that was easy to mistake when corresponding only in writing.

_I got him for the exchange. I thought maybe he drew my name, too._

_Nope. I got you._

Hermione stared at those words. _I got you._ This bloke was awfully sure of himself as she read between the words. _I got you._

She realized suddenly that it was well after two in the morning and she'd been talking to him for over two hours. Her eyes grew tired with just the mere thought of how late it was. He seemed to read her mind from afar. _You must be tired. Why don't we pick up our little game of twenty questions tomorrow?_

She sighed and smiled to herself. She really wanted to figure out who he was, but she got a small thrill from the anonymity as well. He wanted to know more about her and in turn wanted her to know him, the _real_ him as he'd said.

_We'll see_ , she penned back, elusive so he didn't catch on to her eagerness.

_Good night, Hermione. Happy Christmas._

She mimicked his message. _Good night, strange man I know only through a few exchanges in an odd diary. Happy Christmas._

And with that, Hermione put the journal on her nightstand and glanced at the dragon's eyes that stared back down at her. Various men danced behind her eyelids, but her mind couldn't stop on any of them. She knew it was irrational and strange, but she already couldn't wait to talk to him again.

o-o-o


	4. Chapter 4

With Ron, Ginny and Harry out riding their broomsticks, Mrs. Weasley preoccupied with the Christmas feast and the other Weasley men holed up in Mr. Weasley's workshop, Hermione was left alone for the better part of the day. She curled up on the couch by the fire and tried reading, but her mind kept wandering to the coupling journal. It was Christmas so she tried not to be rude and keep him from his family, but she was growing restless.

She opened the book, which had remained cold all day, and saw that their previous messages were all remaining. She dragged a finger over the graceful script. It really was ludicrous for her to be thinking about a man whose identity she didn't even know. She pictured him as a handsome, dark haired man with blue eyes and sharp jawline. She suspected he was in Ravenclaw, but no one in the entire school fit her fantasy man.

_How is your Christmas Day so far?_ She wrote, hoping he would respond sooner rather than later.

He did not disappoint. _Dreadfully depressing. My family was affected greatly by the War and we lost my father. It just doesn't feel like Christmas._

Hermione frowned at that. She empathized with him greatly—her own parents were lost in a way. _I'm sorry for what you're going through. I lost my parents, too._

_I'm sorry for you as well. No one as kind-hearted as you deserves to feel the sting of loss,_ he wrote. Hermione's heart panged at that. The loss of her parents was her own doing and she didn't deserve the pity or sympathy of others. Should she tell him what she'd done? She didn't even know him.

_What is the worst thing you've ever done?_ She was testing the waters.

His response surprised her. _I tried to kill myself the summer before sixth year, just before my sixteenth birthday. My mother found me._

It was clear to her that this boy was deeply hurt and had suffered immensely in his lifetime. _Why did you do that?_

_I was faced with a difficult decision and I knew I'd have to make the wrong choice. I couldn't handle what my life was going to become,_ came his honest response. He was being elusive even as he was being truthful and it was frustrating as hell.

But she decided that she would reward his honesty with some of her own. _I obliviated my parents when I found out that Voldemort was killing Muggles. I sent them to Australia and I haven't got the courage to try and restore their memories yet._

He took a moment to respond and she temporarily thought she'd said too much. Scared him away. But he was nothing but kind. _I'm sorry you were faced with that decision. But I think that you did what you believed would be right. And for that, you are braver than I could ever hope to be._

_Thank you,_ she replied, her eyes moistening at the thought of her parents. No one outside of her immediate friends knew what had happened to her parents. But this man and his anonymity had her telling her secrets and she found it cathartic. _I wish I hadn't waited years to finally talk to you,_ he wrote. _Even now, I'm being a coward and hiding in the pages of a book._

_Then why don't we talk in person?_ She asked.

_Because, you need to see me for who I am, not who you've seen me be in the past. I am not the person you'd expect me to be,_ came his reply.

She tried to think of what she could ask him, to help her get to know him better. _What's your deepest fear or insecurities?_

His reply was swift. _To never be accepted by my family or by society. I've let many people down in my life and the weight of it bears down on my soul. You?_

_When I said before that I'm afraid of the dark, it's not darkness I'm afraid of. I'm afraid of what lurks in the darkness. I don't go anywhere alone after dark for fear that someone will harm me. Especially being Muggle-born and living with that very real possibility the last few years…_

Hermione's heart was thumping. She was divulging too much of herself. She didn't care to come off as a damsel in distress.

He penned a response after a few moments. _There is nothing irrational about that. You fought a valiant fight to defeat the evils facing this world and you should be proud of yourself. Let's stray from the crippling depressive questions for now, shall we? Where do you see yourself in five years?_

She thought about it for a few minutes. Where did she see herself in five years? She wanted to attend a university after her final year at Hogwarts and wanted to delve deeper into fighting for the rights of magical creatures. She wanted to travel the world, fighting for others. _I want to travel all across Europe, fighting for those who can't fight for themselves. After I finish university and perhaps an internship. I'll probably end up working for the Ministry._

_Any particular man you see in your life?_ He asked.

Hermione thought about it for a moment. For the majority of her late teens, she'd thought about a future with Ron. He was handsome, loyal and brave. But lately, his negative characteristics—jealous, argumentative and accusatory—had been turning her off to him. Absence is supposed to make the heart grow fonder, but she found that the absence was making her wiser and less dependent on him as a safety blanket relationship. Malfoy's stormy eyes and shy smile from the Ball flickered in her mind only briefly. _No. What about you?_

_I'm already quite good at healing potions, so I like think I'd be through university and my apprenticeship and manufacturing potions for St. Mungo's. Possibly own a chain of apothecaries._

Hermione noticed how he carefully skipped over the part about a particular female he might see himself with. _Not married then?_

_Honestly, I don't know. If I find the right girl, I suppose I'd like to settle down and start a family of my own. Why, are you offering?_

Hermione laughed at his cheeky comeback. _I think I need to meet someone face to face before committing to a marriage._

_Fair enough,_ he answered.

Hermione couldn't help her next question. _Are you seeing anyone right now?_

She waited only a moment for his response, her heart slamming wildly in her chest. _I don't know what kind of debonair player you think I am, but I am a one woman kind of bloke. And I'm currently writing to you instead of eating Christmas dinner with my mother. So I think that answers that._

She smiled. _Good answer. I am also dreadfully single. Perhaps when you decide to come out of the shadows, we could go to Hogsmeade._

_I'd like that,_ he replied. _Tell me, what was your childhood like? Without magic?_

She thought for a moment. How to explain to a wizard what a Muggle upbringing was like… _It was…normal. I didn't know magic even existed so I learned to do everything by hand. My parents were hard working, but made sure to make plenty of time for me. We used to go camping often and my dad taught me many basic survival skills that came in handy when I went with Harry to hunt the Horcruxes last year. It is kind of strange that my parents don't understand our world, and therefore cannot understand how big of an accomplishment much of what I've achieved has been. All of my magical milestones kind of went over their heads. Mrs. Weasley took up the slack there._

_How did your magic manifest?_ he asked.

_A kid in my third year primary school class was picking at me about my buckteeth one day while we were on the playground. I got so angry, I flipped him over the swing set until he was tangled up in the swing. My parents had to come to the school and pick me up and from that point forward, strange things would happen that no one could explain. It was a relief when I got my Hogwarts letter—I'd finally have a place I fit in. Or so I thought when I was eleven._

She frowned. She had had so many expectations when heading to Hogwarts, many of which never came true. _What do you mean?_ He asked.

She bit her lip. _Well, my personality, my tenacity and my incessant need to always be right kept me isolated, even amongst other magical persons. Plus, I'm Muggle-born and that made me feel like I needed to prove my worth and my abilities even more. The Slytherins made sure I never forgot that. I truly only fit in with Ron and Harry. Everyone else is nice enough, but they don't understand me._

He was unresponsive for a long while, and Hermione almost closed the journal. She worried again that she'd said too much. What if he was good friends with some of the Slytherins? Would he take offense to her honesty? His fancy script finally appeared after what seemed like an eternity. _I'm sorry you were made to feel unworthy. But I do hope you can see now that you are truly incredible and have absolutely earned your title as the brightest witch of your year. Your tenacity defeated Voldemort, for Merlin's sake! And you're brilliant and anyone who can't see that can go piss up a rope. Never be afraid of letting others see how knowledgeable you are. If you would let others in, you'd find that others understand you more than you think._

His kind words were making her eyes tear up again. She wanted to get the attention off of herself now, his compliments making her uneasy. She wasn't used to people showering her with praise like this, save the reports she so desperately had dodged after the War. _How did your magic manifest?_

_I was six and I had a temper tantrum that shook our entire house and blew out all of the windows on the second floor._

She laughed then. Not much different from her own experience. Anger forced it to be brought forth.

_I also do not feel like I fit in anywhere. I feel like an outsider looking into a world where I don't belong sometimes. I should have died in the War—I never thought I'd live to see eighteen and yet, here I am, lost and trying to figure out what the future I never expected to see will hold,_ he wrote.

_You were given a second chance, and I believe that there is reason behind everything that happens. Obviously whatever higher power there may be deemed your life worthy of a second chance. I'd say don't waste it,_ she responded, sincere in her words.

_Would you give me a second chance?_ he asked.

Hermione rolled her eyes. _I would if I knew who you are._

_In due time, my dear. In due time,_ he responded. _So what are your plans for the rest of the holiday?_

_Probably get started organizing a study schedule for the NEWTs. They're only five months away!_ she reminded him.

_What do you do for fun? Besides read incessantly?_

She thought about it for a moment. What did she do for fun besides read? It had been so long since she'd done anything for the sheer joy of it that nothing came to mind right away. _I guess not a whole lot. I find wizards' chess to be dreadfully boring and Quidditch to be barbaric. I used to paint quite a bit, but I haven't in ages._

_I enjoy art as well. I'd love to take you to some Muggle galleries, but also to some here in Wizarding London. Brilliant works of art,_ he commented much to Hermione's delight. This bloke was sophisticated. He enjoyed the usual Quidditch, but he also enjoyed classical music and art. And he was talented, as evidenced by the perfectly hand painted dragon's eyes on the side of the pages she held.

_You are quite the artist, Mystery Man. These dragon's eyes look incredibly realistic._

_No need to butter me up—I'm already enamored with you,_ he wrote back. She felt her cheeks flush. He was definitely flirting and definitely confident. She thought of Malfoy for a moment, replaying how he'd taken her hands and she was sure he was going to kiss her. She shook her head. All these men in her life all of a sudden were making her grow weary. Ronald with his jealousy, Charlie with his damn forearms, Malfoy with his oddly sweet disposition the night of the Ball and now Mystery Man giving her a coupling journal and flirting with her.

_You seem like a sweet man. I'd like to get to know you better,_ she penned, trying her best at flirting back.

_I'd like that, too._

_Well, tell me something you've never told anyone else,_ she wrote, feeling minimally invasive.

_My greatest fear in life is turning out like my parents. I want a life full of love and happy memories and unlike my own father, I want to be a man my children can look up to. I want to have a normal life, unclouded by societal pressures and stuffy business ventures. I want a woman who I can adore and shower with love and affection, rather than just monetary gifts and expectations. I want a brood of beautiful children, too. Not just one, but four—two of each. I want to coach my sons' Quidditch teams and cheer for them loudly and without reserve. I want my little girls to be fierce, like you. Intelligent and unrelenting when pursuing their passions. In short—I want a life people will envy, not because I'm wealthy, but because I'm rich in love and adoration of my family. I've never experienced a life like that…_

Those sentiments brought a heavy feeling on her heart. He was so broken and trying so hard to be a good man. He would make a great husband to a witch one day, and she found herself envious of that witch.

_I know you'll ask. So one thing I've never told anyone is that I envied all of the other girls in my year. While my head was shoved in books, they were cultivating strong friendships and discovering the intricacies of dating. I never put much effort into my appearance, but I wish I had tried a little harder. I fear my inexperience will turn any man I may date in the future off. And I don't mean physical inexperience, per se. But my inexperience in dealing with another human being on a romantic level. How do I know when to let him alone and stop arguing? What if I nag and boss him into leaving? What if I do the exact opposite and I'm too clingy? What if I fall hard and he breaks my heart? How do you recover from that?_ Hermione realized that she sounded whiney, but she wasn't sure she cared.

_You take a chance on a man worth fighting for,_ was his response. _And you make sure he's willing to lay down his life for you._

It was at this particular moment, when she was really peeling back the proverbial onion layers of Mystery Man's personality, that Ron and Harry came in from the fresh snow, laughing and carrying on. Ron ambled over to her and saddled himself right up against her and slung an arm over her shoulders. She slammed the journal shut, hoping he didn't catch a glimpse of the inside. "I'm sorry about last night, 'Mione. I shouldn't have reacted that way."

She shrugged, wishing he would go away once more and then feeling guilty for having that thought. "It's not a big deal, Ron. I'm used to your temper after eight years. But I do wish you'd trust my judgment a little more."

"It's _Malfoy_ , Hermione. Forgive me if I was surprised you went to a Ball with our childhood nemesis," he replied coolly.

"He is trying to better himself by attending Hogwarts. I cannot fault him for that. He has not said one bigoted remark this year to me and mostly keeps to himself. But he was a perfect gentleman and an amicable date," she explained, finding it odd that she was defending Malfoy of all people.

Ron snorted at that. "Give me a break, Hermione."

"You have a hell of a way of apologizing, Ronald," she said, storming off to the room she shared with Ginny.

The journal was warm in her cold hands. _Is everything okay?_ was the concerned message.

She wiped at the tears that were beginning to form in her eyes. Every time she was around Ron the last couple of days, she ended up arguing with him and she was absolutely sick of it.

_Just arguing the usual arguments with my dunderheaded best friend._

_Oh? What about?_ he asked.

_You know, the usual. Defending Draco Malfoy as my Yule Ball date._ She laughed at how ridiculous that statement looked, even written down on paper.

_Why would you need to defend Malfoy?_ he asked.

She rolled her eyes. Why does she need to defend Malfoy? _Because my friends don't think people have the capacity to change. And Malfoy seems like he's putting forth his best effort, so I am giving him the benefit of the doubt._

_Well, did you have a nice time at the Yule Ball?_

She sighed. _Yes. As it turns out, he was a great date. Better than my first go with Viktor Krum._ She hoped that made Mystery Man slightly jealous.

_Well then you should tell your friends to shove it. It's your business, not theirs._

_I agree. If only it were that simple,_ she replied.

_If there is one thing I have learned since the War ended, it's that life is too short to care what everyone thinks. If you want to do something in life, you need to get out there and do it. If you want to dance the night away with that prick Malfoy, by all means allow him to sweep you off your feet. If you want to go on dates with strange men who get to know you first by writing in a journal, by all means, go on dates._

She laughed at his positivity. Allow Malfoy to sweep her off her feet? Is that what he did? She fingered the necklace that she hadn't removed since he put it on her the three nights prior. It had been the best night she'd spent in the company of a man in eons. She wondered what he was doing at this particular moment. Probably attending some high society ball at the Manor and sipping centuries old firewhiskey or some other haughty activities. Possibly snogging Astoria Greengrass or getting into mischief with Theo Nott.

_I think you might be on to something,_ she wrote him.

_I'm usually spot on._

He was arrogant, but she found she didn't mind his playful banter. She was upset when Mrs. Weasley called everyone in for Christmas dinner. She just wanted to keep talking to this beautiful, intelligent, broken boy. She was fascinated by him and promised herself she'd work double time to reveal his identity as soon as she got back into school. She was dreadfully lonely in Ron and Harry's absence and she figured he could be a great companion if not something more.

o-o-o


	5. Chapter 5

And so it went, day in and day out for the rest of the Christmas holidays. She would hole herself up for the better part of the day while the others went out and played Quidditch in the snow, writing to Mystery Man, getting to know him better. She felt as though he was a kindred spirit and understood her better than anyone else she'd ever met, sometimes even better than she understood herself.

He was witty, sharp and cheeky, and he flirted in a way that was not disgusting (like Cormac), lazy (like Ron) or unsure (like Viktor). He was never vulgar and never asked her intimate questions or made derogatory comments. It seemed he truly wanted to get to know her mind, and Hermione was all too happy to open up to him. It was cathartic to be able to bear her soul to another human being, especially one so similar in values, intelligence and wisdom.

She expressed her desire to see him on the train ride back to Hogwarts, to which he responded _I'm sure you'll see me._ His vagueness was driving her mad and her desire to discover his identity burned within her.

On January 5th, she boarded the train and made her way up to the Prefects' cabin to greet Malfoy and give the other prefects their assignments. Once everyone had spread out, she and Malfoy took their seats in the cabin alone.

She noticed his usual stony façade had returned, but though his arms were crossed, he was more relaxed than angry. His usual perfect posture was slouched into the seat, his legs stretched out, right ankle over left. He was silent as he watched out the window at the passing farmland. She buried her face into a book, not really reading, desperately wishing she could write to Mystery Man without Malfoy questioning the odd journal.

She glanced up at him every so often, remembering his sweet disposition the night of the Ball. The compliments he'd given her. And she desperately wished he'd return to that version of Malfoy, instead of the quiet man across from her. She reflexively reached up and touched the necklace and she saw the corners of his lips twitch as though he were going to smile. The brief movement of his facial muscles made her heart race. He was still watching out the window, but she knew he was focusing on her out of his peripheral. Should she try to engage him in conversation? Would he actually speak to her or was that a one night thing? She tried to muster all of her bravery to speak when he broke the silence. "Spit it out, Granger. I can see you're bubbling over with unspoken words."

He finally turned his gaze back to her and her breath hitched as she took in his piercing stormy eyes. He was looking at her expectantly, his arms still crossed comfortably. He wasn't yet wearing his robes, but a simple pair of slacks and his usual black turtleneck. She tried not to look at the muscles hiding under the cashmere fabric of his sweater. "I-I just wanted to tell you that I had a nice time at the Yule Ball. I appreciate you being so agreeable."

"So you told me that last time we spoke," he replied nonchalantly.

He was being his usual direct self, though she could see a glint in his eye she didn't recognize. "How was your Christmas?" she tried changing the subject.

"Dreadfully boring. Lucky for me, my mother forwent the Ball this year. Unluckily, that meant she spent every second fussing over me," he replied, rolling his eyes.

Hermione thought about Narcissa. She was a rather intimidating woman, but she seemed to truly love her son. Hermione wondered if there was any part of her loving nature buried deep within Draco, or if he was Lucius' son through and through. He raised an eyebrow. "How about you? Get everything you wanted for Christmas?" he asked, a strange expression on his face that Hermione couldn't read.

She felt her cheeks flush and instinctively put her hand over the beaded bag she carried, feeling the journal through the fabric. "It was satisfactory. Sometimes gifts aren't what matters, but spending time with those you care about."

In reality, she'd spent more time talking to Mystery Man than she had with the Weasleys and Harry. Besides dinners and family time around the fire afterward, she hardly went out of Ginny's room for any reason. Every interaction with Ron turned into bickering, which turned into Harry getting defensive over Ron. She didn't feel up to the constant arguments and having to defend the cool man sitting across from her now.

Malfoy's signature smirk appeared suddenly and he seemed to read her mind. "Tell me, how did Weaselbee take it when you told him that I was your date to the Yule Ball?"

She rolled her eyes at his name calling and sighed. "He wasn't happy. But I find that it's not really his business, it's mine," she said, mimicking Mystery Man's earlier words to her.

He smiled smugly, almost too gleefully. "Did you tell him about Theo's little trick with the mistletoe?"

Hermione glared at him then. "I didn't want to _kill_ him. I told him you were an amicable date and unlike him, you didn't ruin a Yule Ball for me."

He gave her a "what do you mean" look. She frowned at the memory of Ron ruining her time in fourth year. "He accused me of 'fraternizing with the enemy' because I went with Viktor Krum."

Malfoy snorted a brief exhale of air, almost like a laugh. "If Krum was an enemy, then I must be public enemy number one. You must have crossed to the Dark side completely to be seen with me."

Hermione laughed. "He's ridiculous. Not to mention, he could have plucked up the courage to ask me to the ball himself. Instead, he asked me as a last resort. And then had the gall to yell at me for going with Viktor."

Malfoy muttered something under his breath that sounded strangely like "You should never be a last resort," but she couldn't be sure. The dessert trolley came by and he finally stood and stretched his full length, bearing a small strip of milky skin below the hem of his shirt. It made Hermione's heart race again. "Do you want anything?" he asked, gesturing to the cart.

"I'm not a fan of sweets," she said, shaking her head.

"Well, they have savory treats as well," he replied. "How about these? Crisps that will take the flavor of whatever you happen to be craving."

He purchased those, a couple glass bottles of pumpkin juice and a variety of sweets for himself. "I have an insatiable sweet tooth," he told her, opening a chocolate frog.

Her heart panged as she thought about Mystery Man. She tried to offer him some money for the treats he'd purchased and he refused. She opened the bag of crisps and put on in her mouth. It took the flavor of a hearty spaghetti sauce and she laughed. "Apparently, I'm craving Italian food," she said, holding the bag out and gesturing for him to try one.

"Italy is a beautiful country. I used to vacation there as a child with my mother. Not that you could tell from the creamy, delectable tone of my skin," he said, popping a crisp in his mouth. "Potato chowder. How strange."

_Tuscany. He had said he vacationed in Tuscany…_ "Whereabouts in Italy did you travel?"

Malfoy shrugged and smiled as he took a sip of his pumpkin juice. "Here and there, really."

She desperately wanted to write to Mystery Man. She wanted to see his small beautiful script appear as he answered her questions honestly. "Did you see Theo or Astoria over holidays?" she asked, wondering more about Astoria than Theo.

"Not this year. Without the usual stuffy ball my parents host, there was no reason to have anyone over," he answered hesitantly.

"Theo told me something about you and Astoria…" she didn't know how to ask without seeming too nosy.

"Theo should keep his mouth shut where I am concerned," he said coolly.

"Do your parents actually expect you to marry her?" she blurted it right out.

He sighed and put his half eaten treacle tart on the tray beside him. "Dammit, Granger. Why do you have to know everything?"

She fiddled with her hands and looked down at his dress shoes, his right ankle still crossed casually over his left, a strip of his emerald socks peeking out. "I was only asking. Arranged marriages are a foreign concept to me."

He stared at her for a long moment, pushing a hand through his hair—the hair she'd run her hands through as they'd danced. His gaze was boring holes into her head and her face was scarlet with embarrassment under the weight of his stare. Finally he spoke. "It's not an arranged marriage. Our parents expect us to marry other affluent purebloods. They've pushed me toward her and Pansy since I was a toddler, hoping I'd choose one of them to be my bride."

She looked up at him then, confused by his careful phrasing. "And have you? Chosen?"

He shrugged noncommittally. "I honestly don't give a fuck what my parents think anymore. Their way of thinking caused me all sorts of problems for the last few years, and I am done trying to please everyone else."

"You didn't answer the question," she pointed out.

"No, Granger. I have not chosen one of the two of them. They are both beautiful, aristocratic, pureblooded women. Either would be a good match for me, a sufficient choice to carry on the Malfoy line. But they are nothing more than show pieces. I want someone…different," he said, his tone cold once more. He resumed his pensive staring out of the window, his sweets remaining untouched.

Hermione regretted opening her mouth. He had withdrawn back into himself and she knew there would be no drawing him back out. Their conversation had ended. She sighed and straightened her Prefects' badge over her robe. "I'm going to go find Blaise and Ginny."

He shrugged once more. "I'm sure they'd be thrilled with your company."

She nodded curtly and left the car. She wandered through the returning students and found an empty seat across from a first year who had his face shoved into his Transfiguration textbook. She pulled out the journal from her beaded bag and opened it. _Hey. I miss you already. Malfoy's being a tosser and I don't feel much like sitting with Blaise and Ginny. Can I sit with you?_

It took a moment to receive his reply. _Not yet. We're almost to the school, why don't you go terrorize some first years and get these rowdy children straight, Head Girl._

She laughed. It was worth a shot. _Can we talk tonight? Before I have to do rounds with Malfoy? I need all of the positivity I can muster to walk alongside him in icy silence…_

_We can talk anytime you'd like. Now, I need to change into my uniform…go terrorize small children!_

She replaced her journal into her bag and sighed. She lifted herself up to go and make her rounds. She confiscated some contraband that a second year had snuck in from Zonko's and yelled at a fourth year for digging through their trunk right in the middle of the aisle. It was uneventful and over too quickly. She returned to the cabin where Malfoy was.

When she entered, he was pulling on his robes and straightening his badge. His hair was ruffled from pulling his jumper off and pulling on his uniform and she thought he looked quite dashing with his hair a mess. He ran a hand through it all too quickly and it went back to its usual pristine state. She cleared her throat behind him and he took his seat once more, adjusting the portfolio style briefcase he carried instead of a bag these days.

"I'm sorry for prying into your personal life earlier," she apologized.

He grunted his acceptance. "You can't help your incessant need to know everything about everyone all the time."

She laughed and watched as they pulled up to the school. "We should probably split up and help usher the crowds into the building. Everyone's probably comatose after eating so much food over the holidays."

"See you at eleven to do our rounds, Granger," he said, stepping off the train with his briefcase.

She thought about Mystery Man. At least she'd get to talk to him before she had to go on rounds with Malfoy. His moods switched so often that she had a hard time keeping up with him. She needed the levelheadedness of Mystery Man to keep her company. At least _he_ was candid with her, whereas Malfoy could take offense to the simplest question and bottle himself up.

o-o-o

A little after ten, Hermione sat in her room, writing in the journal. He had just asked her, _What is the silliest thing you do everyday that no one else knows about?_

She didn't have to think too hard to answer that question. _I check my shoes periodically throughout the day to make sure I haven't worn two different shoes._

_How endearing_ , he replied. _I have to mix the sugar into my tea one spoon at a time. Then taste it and add another spoonful. And then taste it again. Even though I know exactly how I take my tea and exactly how much sugar to use. Doesn't make much sense, does it?_

She giggled. _No sillier than making sure your shoes match five times a day. I'm afraid I have to go now. Malfoy's probably waiting for me and he'll be grumpy if I'm late._

She waited for a response and was surprised when a little doodled caricature of Malfoy appeared, with a Snape-like grimace on his face. She laughed hard at that. _Impressive,_ she wrote to him.

_You have no idea how impressive I can be,_ he replied cheekily.

That sent shivers down her back as she grinned like an idiot. She was still smiling widely as she left her room and greeted Malfoy in the Common Room. "What's got you so happy?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and one corner of his mouth.

"Nothing. I was just reading something comical before I headed down," she replied, pulling her jumper over her shirt.

They headed out together and walked at a leisurely pace, neither in a hurry to be anywhere. "I was wondering if you might like to work on the Charms assignment together tomorrow evening?" he asked quietly, breaking the silence.

She looked over at him, her eyebrows furrowed. "You need help with an assignment?" she asked him skeptically.

He scoffed. "No, I don't need help, Granger. If you haven't noticed in the last eight years, I am second in this school, only to you. I was merely asking if you would like to sit with me at a desk and work in companionable silence and I could show you my essay and have you review it before I hand it in? We are, after all, getting close to NEWTs and an extra pair of eyes couldn't hurt anyone."

She nodded in agreement. "True. I'll have you look over mine as well, then."

"All twenty feet of it?" he teased, causing her to give him a playful jab of the elbow.

Hermione was relieved that Malfoy's mood was light this evening. While the thoughts of who her Mystery Man could be floated behind her eyelids—she'd looked at every guy in the Great Hall during dinner and couldn't picture a single one writing the messages to her—she allowed herself to peek over at the man beside her. If she weren't so caught up in trying to discover the identity of a man she may never meet, she would not have been opposed to trying to get to know the Slytherin Prince. He had changed quite a bit from when she had last seen him in sixth year, from when she'd seen him in Malfoy Manor and during the Battle of Hogwarts.

His shoulders weren't so tense, his gait had lost some of the arrogance of his early teenaged years—not all, he still walked with confidence and an air of sophistication that was seldom seen amongst the other eighteen year olds. He was usually pristinely kempt, but she noticed that after sixteen or so hours, he had light stubble playing across his cheeks. She thought it made him look rough and masculine. He wasn't wearing his tie, only his white uniform shirt, unbuttoned at the top to show his pale neck. She noticed the gray of his sweater brought out the gray of his eyes even more. His shoulders and chest were still tight with muscle even though he hadn't played on the Quidditch team in two years. His hair was beginning to fall into his eyes, the pomade he usually wore finally starting to wear off. He no loner sported the dark purple circles of stress and insomnia he had in prior years and Hermione found it comforting that, despite everything he'd done and witnessed, he was finally reaching some kind of peace.

But it was more than just his physical looks. His personality had changed some, too. He seemed more mature, wiser. Whatever horrors he had witnessed had humbled him. He no longer wore a sneer or looked down his nose at others. Without Crabbe and Goyle to flank him, he kept mostly to himself, usually only conversing when others spoke to him first. He hadn't used the word 'Mudblood' all year, at least not that she'd heard. Whenever the War had been brought up in conversation, he'd had the decency to wear a mask of remorse. He no longer threw jabs at Harry or Ron for the most part, outside of his unusual glee at Ron's displeasure over the Yule Ball. He no longer treated Hermione like she was the dirt beneath his shoes, but more as an equal. She suspected a lot of that had to do with his father being locked up. He had said he no longer cared what his parents thought.

And then there was the Yule Ball. He'd complimented her looks on more than one occasion that night. He'd let lose and danced to silly songs and sang aloud to the songs the band had cranked out. He had given her the necklace she found herself touching so often it was becoming second nature to her. He had held her close to dance to the slower songs, ran his bare hand over her back. He had kissed her gently, a little longer than necessary to break the mistletoe's spell. He had grabbed her hands when they reached the Common Room and was about to say something else before Theo had stepped out. _Damn, Theo!_ The thought sent a shiver up her spine and gooseflesh over her skin.

"If you are quite done staring, Granger, we should probably head back," he told her, removing his own robes to put over her shoulders, just as he had done during after the Yule Ball. "The draft out here is enough to raise the dead."

She pulled his robes around her neck and snuggled into the distinctly _Malfoy_ smell that clung to the fabric. She noticed immediately that his sleeves under the robes had been rolled up and once uncovered, he hurried to cover the angry red scar that was the remnants of his Dark Mark. She tried to avert her eyes so as to not embarrass him further.

When they arrived back at the eighth year Common Room, she pulled the robes from around her shoulders and draped them back over his. She leaned up and planted a gentle kiss on his cheek and she was delighted to find a light blush spread across his cheeks as he smiled and bid her good night.

All of these men in her life were going to be the death of her, Hermione just knew it.

o-o-o

The next day, she hid the journal under her usual Ancient Runes textbooks, only sneaking a glance at it when she felt it heat up. Mystery Man was sending her doodles of various things—dragons, broomsticks, Hogwarts.

She had to stifle a laugh when he sent her a doodle of herself with her hair frizzy and wild, surrounded by a pile of books, looking frazzled. It was definitely her. Her eyes swept the classroom to see if any of the guys seemed to be showing her any attention or if anyone else had a strange book out.

She spotted Malfoy sitting next to Blaise Zabini in the back. He was smiling down at the desk, but there wasn't anything but a piece of parchment and writing implements out on his desk. He must have felt her gaze on him because he lifted his head and offered her a slight smile, a roll of the eyes and a hand movement where he tapped his thumb to his fingers to signify the Professor's talking too much. She gave him a mock-stern glare and smiled back.

She was quite looking forward to working with him on the Charms assignment. She was getting nowhere fast with Mystery Man—he only kept telling her to be patient with him, they'd only been talking for less than two weeks. And while she loved spending time delving into his mind, she found her mind was wandering more and more to the silvery blond headed Slytherin seated over her right shoulder.

When the last class of the day had ended, she quickly wolfed down her dinner to get back to the Common Room as quickly as possible. She didn't see Malfoy sitting at the Slytherin table or with any other eighth years. He was getting a head start on their assignment—she could respect that.

When Hermione entered the Common Room, Malfoy was already seated at the long desk by the fire, his textbooks and notes spread out around him. He had been to the library and picked up a few books he thought would be useful and they sat in a neat pile in the middle of the table. Hermione started to unload her own bag and apologized for running late. "So have you finished your first draft, then?" she asked, pulling her own first draft out and unrolling the three feet of parchment she'd written for the assignment.

He laughed at the length of her essay and unraveled his, not much shorter than hers. She realized she'd never paid much attention to his schoolwork, but he really was the male equivalent of herself. "I've got a few finishing touches to make, first," he responded.

She nodded and pulled the pile of reference books closer to herself. She hid behind it and pulled her journal out of her beaded bag, wanting to pen a quick note to Mystery Man to let him know she likely wouldn't be talking tonight. She watched as Malfoy's face contorted in confusion and he pulled a slip of parchment from the briefcase that rested against his leg. He read something quickly, his eyes scanning in a manner that reminded her of her own and he took a quick note.

Hermione bit her lip as she watched him put his note back into his briefcase and looked back down at the open journal. _Please don't hate me._

Hermione was confused at the last message and was going to ask him what he was talking about when Malfoy stood, clutching his essay in hands she noticed were shaking slightly. She quickly put the journal back into her beaded bag, lest he spot. Why were his hands shaking? Was he nervous about asking for help? He'd probably never had to ask for assistance for anything in his life.

He brought his roll of parchment to her and said, "I think I've finished my rough draft. But I'm having trouble wording one of the paragraphs. Perhaps you could give me some insight?"

She smiled up at him and held out her hand to take the essay. "Let's have a look, shall-"

She stopped mid sentence. His handwriting was small, elegant and slanted script. It was a script she knew all too well, she'd run her fingertips over it every day for almost two weeks.

o-o-o


	6. Chapter 6

She realized then that Malfoy had no intention of getting help with his Charms homework—he didn't know how else to break his identity to her.

" _It was you?!"_ Hermione whispered, perhaps a bit more forcefully than she had intended.

Draco took a step back from her as she stood. "I can explain…." he began.

She grabbed a book from beside her on the table. "It. Was. You. This. Whole. Time?" each word was punctuated with a smack against his arm with the book. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest.

"Ow, Granger—stop hitting me, let me explain!" he begged, taking the book from her and placing it on the table behind him.

To his horror, there were angry tears spilling from her eyes. She wiped at them furiously, her own mind spinning. No matter how much she reminded herself that she had secretly hoped it would be Malfoy, she couldn't help picturing the time he'd called her a Mudblood in second year or when he'd cursed her teeth to grow in fourth year. She was angry, believing he was tricking her. This was some kind of prank.

"What are you playing at, Malfoy?" she asked him, fresh hot tears spilling out.

"Why are you crying?" he asked, pulling his sleeve down over his thumb so he could lift his hand to wipe her cheeks. "Hey, why are you crying?" he asked again. "I'm sorry that it was me and not someone else. We can pretend this never happened."

"Is this a prank? Where's Theo? Did he ask you to do this? Bewitch the Muggle-born and break her heart and then laugh amongst yourselves at my expense?" she was talking quickly.

She didn't miss the hurt look that flashed across his face. His voice was angry as he spoke. "Quite frankly, I'm insulted that after _everything_ , after this whole _year_ you could even think that I would be capable of hurting you in that manner. I meant everything I wrote in that journal. Every. Last. Word," and with that he shoved past her.

Well. This was certainly not how either of them had pictured this moment. He stormed into his room and slammed the door behind him, causing a painting to fall from the wall with the force of it. She stared at his door for a long moment, thinking to herself.

Hadn't she spent the past two weeks convincing herself that he had changed? Hadn't she thought about how he'd not used the derogatory term in her presence all year? Hadn't she commented how he had matured and gotten wiser?

Hadn't she spent two weeks talking to a man through a journal, secretly hoping it was Malfoy? Every time he spoke to her, it was Malfoy's face that flashed in her mind. The shy, dashing smile he'd given her, the feel of his hand on her bare skin while they danced, his scent that clouded her senses. Hadn't she longed to touch his baby soft hair once more, to stare into the thunderclouds of his eyes?

Theo's voice drew her out of her reverie. "Well, you certainly fucked that up, Granger."

She glared in his direction. "Don't you think I realize that now, Nott?"

He sighed, taking a seat on the couch by the fire. "I'd suggest you stifle your pride, knock on his door and talk to him."

She looked at him incredulously. "He went in there to get away from me-"

"Do you blame him?"

"-and I really screwed this whole thing up," she finished sadly, fingering the necklace that rested on her collar.

Theo rolled his eyes as he opened a Quidditch magazine. "For the brightest witch of our year, you certainly are daft."

"Oh shove it, Nott. What do you know?" she huffed, collecting her books.

"I know he's wanted this since third year and he would love it if you would go in there," Theo said, putting one arm behind his head leisurely, as though Draco's pining no longer interested him, as though it was so commonplace in conversation that it warranted minimal attention.

Hermione lifted one eyebrow at him. Third year? When the hell did third year enter the equation? Had he harbored feelings that long? She was utterly confused as she stared at Theo. He finally sighed and waved his hand in a 'shoo' motion toward his door. "Go."

What would she say to him? 'Sorry I freaked out and accused you of pranking me'? That sounded terrible, even to her own ears. She looked at his door and swallowed hard, trying to prepare herself. She lifted her hand to knock and heard him mumble a 'go away'. She looked at Theo who gave her a pointed look back. She whispered a quiet 'alohomora' and opened his door slowly.

"Dammit, Granger, get out," he said, slamming the door in her face.

Theo stood at this point, looking clearly put out. "Oi, she's coming in so make sure your prick is in your pants. Or don't actually," he yelled as he wrangled the door open once more and shoved Hermione into the room before she could protest.

Her face was bright scarlet over Theo's cheeky comment and she averted her eyes as she noticed Malfoy was, in fact, shirtless. She worried her bottom lip between her teeth as she thought about what to say. He folded his arms over his chest and leaned back, sitting on the edge of his desk. She noticed he carefully tucked his Dark Mark into his chest. He was staring straight into her soul, his piercing gaze suffocating her. She sighed. "I'm sorry for accusing you of tricking me," she said quietly, wringing her hands.

He scoffed. "That was rude, unnecessary and disheartening. But you know what sucks the most, Granger?"

She looked up at him then, finally meeting his gaze. He continued. "I have spent this whole year trying to prove that I am not that stupid child I once was. I poured my heart into the pages of that journal. I told you things that not even Theo knows. And you…" his voice caught for a moment and she thought he might cry, "You _still_ think that I could be that _cruel_."

She took a step toward him and he put his hand out to stop her. "No, don't. It's my own fault for being a little shit for so long. But damn…it _hurts_."

Hermione ignored him and took another step to close the gap between them, grabbing his wrist with her tiny fingers. "I'm sorry. I panicked. I don't know what else to say."

He cleared his throat and dropped his head down, staring at the floor. She lifted his chin so she could look in his eyes. _Those eyes_. His eyelashes were wet with unspilled tears and it tore at her heart. She hadn't meant to hurt him, and she regretted it more than anything.

"Just so you know, every time I talked to Mystery Man, I kept replaying the night of the Yule Ball. I kept thinking about how sweet you were and I kept wishing I could run my hands through your hair again. No matter how hard I tried to convince myself that it couldn't be you—The Prince of Slytherin enjoying Muggle things?—I kept _hoping_ it would be you," she said, her fingertip still resting on the underside of his chin.

"You're not disappointed?" his voice was barely above a whisper.

She gave him a genuine smile. "No," she said, stepping between his legs.

She moved the hand that rested under his chin to his neck, ran her thumb over the light stubble. So masculine and handsome. He looked up at her from where he sat on the desk, his hair falling playfully into his eyes. A light blush spread across his cheeks and Hermione thought it was the sexiest thing she'd ever seen in her life. He gave her a shy smile.

She pushed his silken locks back on his forehead, marveling at the softness as he closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. Her hand still ran over the gentle stubble on his jawline and she brought her other arm to circle his neck and shoulders. She couldn't take the anticipation anymore. She could feel his pulse racing under her hand and he swallowed hard as he put his hands on her hips, pulling her flush against himself.

She brushed her lips against his in a sweet, chaste kiss. She felt his fingers tighten around her hips and smiled into his mouth. She felt him smile too and he brought a hand up to cup her face as he traced her lower lip with his tongue. She brought her fingertips from his jaw, down over his collarbone and down over his bare chest and abdomen. She felt gooseflesh rise on his bare skin and she laughed lightly into his mouth. She could tell he was still smiling as he kissed her faster, deeper. His one hand was gripping her tight, the other pulling her face against his.

Hermione could barely string together coherent thoughts as she pulled away from the kiss. As she caught her breath, she planted kisses down his jaw, his neck and then over the milky flesh of his shoulders. He moved his head to the side to allow her access, his eyes closed, his mouth parted slightly as he let out a groan. She leaned back, please with the noise she elicited from him.

Draco grinned and leaned back on one hand on the table, his other hand playing with her curls. His Dark Mark between them, out in the open, he was testing the waters. She took his wrist, kissing and then nipping lightly at the marred flesh. His lips were parted as he watched her, his eyes hooded. She held his wrist as she placed his hand back to her waist. "It doesn't matter," she whispered.

She brought her lips back to his, harshly this time. She closed an imperceptible gap between them, one hand behind his neck holding him steadfastly to her face, the other on his bare hip. His scent and taste was making her heady. She couldn't get enough as she became frantic against him, running her hands over every inch of bare flesh she could touch. He pulled away to kiss her neck, a spot just below her ear. She could feel his breath as he whispered in her ear. "I have wanted this for so long, Hermione."

Her first name on his lips elicited a small moan from her and she pulled away to look at him. "Say it again."

He grinned. "Hermione."

She pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth, dragged it over his jaw and got her lips close to his own ear. "Draco," she breathed and she felt him shiver. He drew her in for another deep kiss as she placed her hands on the desk at either side of his hips. She never fancied herself the kind of girl who would swoon at a kiss, but as she locked lips with the gorgeous man sitting in front of her, she had no other explanation for the fact that she could barely stand up.

He pulled away, just as out of breath as she was and let out a breathy laugh. "I can't believe you didn't figure it was me! How many hints did I need to drop? Honestly, woman, you call yourself the brightest in our year?" he teased, planting a kiss on the tip of her nose.

"You are literally the opposite of what I've thought of you for over seven years," she reasoned. "I mean…Muggle punk rock?"

He laughed. "Theo. He never cared about that pureblood shit. He introduced me to it. Sometimes you just need something gritty and angry and fun to drink to."

She laughed too. "And Bibs? What of him?" she asked.

Draco gestured over her shoulder to where a stuffed dragon sat on his bed, worn and tattered. "He's still my best bud."

"I guess we should thank Theo," Hermione said. "If he hadn't shoved me in here, I'm not sure I would have plucked up the courage to talk to you ever again."

Draco moved her from between his legs and crossed the room. He pulled on his old Quidditch jersey and opened his door, extending his hand for her to take.

"Fucking finally," Pansy said, looking up from painting her nails and seeing their clasped hands and swollen lips.

"Did everyone know about your third year crush, Malfoy?" Hermione asked, frowning slightly.

He looked swiftly at her, a sly grin on his handsome features. "I may have been more than a little obvious, I suppose."

**The END**

o-o-o


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